The pill says:
You pop me in and I pull you back from
falling into the empty inside of you. A gulp sound and I quiet the creak of wood
outside your window. I kill the dogs in the streets to stop their howling, so
you sleep peacefully. This world is a noisy place and I’m glad to let it go
silent for you.
The
cigarette says:
You light a match and it’s not only me who’s
on fire. We burn together, like two lovers sharing heat. Who knows it better to
never be lonely and yet feeling alone? I come in packs of ten, wearing a
warning label. Guess what I still have people to suck the cancer out of me.
They say people die for me. You do too. But I never quit to burn in your love.
The alcohol
says:
Dry days, Ten Pms, Out of Stock seem like
nightmares and happy hours like lottery tickets to you. According to science,
an adult human is 78% water. And there are days when you’re straight 78% me. I
am glad you choose to get drunk. Because I sit here in fancy bottles, totally
drunk in your love. And I find no other thing to sober me up.
The heart says:
Apart from pumping blood, 26 is the number of
times I’ve already been hit by the Cupid’s arrow this year. And it’s not even
May. I think you treat me like the heart of a butterfly which lives for 14 days
and then dies. I would love you more if you try to make it live longer.
The hope says:
I’ve noticed you do two things every now and
then: Throw a fist in the air and chuck me out in the ocean like a silent
prayer. I may be a hopeless romantic but my love for you is not wrong in all
the good ways. I swear I’ll be the raft that saves you whenever the ship will
get busy sinking.
The tears say:
As if everything sad has gravity in it. Each
time they make me roll down your cheek, I helplessly fall in love with you.
Don’t be afraid of me. Go ahead and cry. This will only boost our love and
you will feel better. More love means more tears mean more salt. And salt is
the reason that everything can float so well in the Dead Sea.
Forever
says:
I have seen you staring into horizons and
night skies to meet me. You love to get away with it. You take a little more
and a little more until there is no more to draw on, since forever. You should
learn to make your choices quick because time is running out and so is my love.
A slow marathon.
The paper says:
I am crumpled at my edges and your lack of
love is like scissors for me. I am the lover you should be scared of the most.
Like I am scared of you that one day you’ll open your mouth to cry to somebody
and that nothing will come out. Because I think you’d have given me all of you
by then.
Truly, madly, deeply
Yours.
